Making Pancakes
by sjsjtd2007
Summary: Oliver decides that it's time to make Red Velvet Pancakes.


Making Pancakes

"Alright, do you have all of your equipment," Oliver asked over the radio. "Over."

Allen glared at the walkie-talkie in his hand. It was shockingly from the military and not bright pink. He was in all black with a black beanie, even. "Oliver," he snapped. "Why couldn't you get Francois to do this, again?"

There was a long pause before the Brit replied with, "You need to say 'over', poppet. Over."

Allen's breath hitched in his chest as he drew his arm back to smash the talkie.

"But you know Francois," he said, continuing. "And besides, I said that if you do this for me that I'll help you go through that catastrophe of a house of yours. Over."

He couldn't argue that. His place was a disaster and Oliver was great at organizing. Before, he'd been hell bent on not helping, but his little mission made him offer a deal.

"So you either help me set these two up, or I don't help you. Over." He could practically hear the grin on Oliver's face.

"Alright, fine," Allen groaned. "I have everything. Just… why are you helping THEM hook up? Why not do that for me for once?" He paused and after a moment, said, "Over…"

There was a long pause.

"Oliver?"

The silence continued and Allen blinked. "Wait, you have helped me before? When?"

He didn't reply at first, but then the radio buzzed in. "Do you remember last year's Christmas party…?"

Allen's jaw nearly hit the floor. "YOU-"

Oliver's radio interrupted. "Alright, he's in position. You know where to go, right? Over."

Allen decided to confront him later about the Christmas Party, aka one of the best nights he'd had in a long time. "So all I need to do is go through the mirror and find the other Canadian?"

"Yes. The radio may not work, but keep it with you. Bring him back alive, please." He giggled. "Good luck! Over!"

Allen hooked the radio to his belt and grabbed his belt. The American stood up an scanned the room he wasn't allowed into: The Mirror Room.

He'd been through it once before, and that hadn't ended particularly well. The other nations inside were generally afraid of his kind.

That was, except for Matt.

Allen walked up to the mirror and looked at it. No reflection was showing, and he couldn't see much due o the ominous lack of lighting. He held his breath and stepped through the glass and into the other world.

This side was about as bright as where he came from. The layout was entirely different, though. He checked around the basement, which had various book and strange articles. There was an old looking chair in the corner that gave him and unsettling feeling.

He pulled the radio out and turned it on. "Can ya hear me, Ollie?"

There was a hesitation. "Yes, I can," he said. "Quite clearly, actually. Over."

Allen put the radio back to his belt. Now he knew that he could call him if trouble happened.

He found a flight of stairs and a door at the top. He carefully made his way to the top and opened the door very slightly. The home he was in was very Victorian. He immediately assumed it was the home of Arthur Kirkland.

His suspicions were confirmed when the much less cheerful Brit snapped, "Francis?! Why on Earth are you here?"

He chuckled as he listened to the two bicker and squabble. This place was far different compared to his home, and those two were a prime example.

"SOMEone has to pick up the slack in this filthy house," the Frenchman snapped back.

"Filthy?! Have you even seen your-"

They continued yelling at each other to the point where Allen could have walked into the room where they were and neither of them would notice. He closed the door behind him and ventured through the kitchen and to the living room entryway. The two were there, still shouting. They weren't even getting physical. They were both sitting down, Arthur holding tea and Francis holding the newspaper. They were shooting snarky and cruel jabs back and forth.

Out of curiosity, Allen walked into the room and said, "Where can I find Matthew?"

They both stopped and turned to face him. Arthur raised a brow. "Who…"

Francis snapped. "Canada, you brain dead Doctor lover!"

"Oh, right," Arthur had said rather sheepishly. "I'm not sure. Was he with Alfred?"

"They were both at his house, oui," Francis said, rolling his eyes.

"And what do you mean, 'brain dead'?! Why I should…"

Their bickering continued where it had left off.

Allen snickered and walked by to the door. "Thanks," he called back and went outside.

Arthur and Francis both stopped in midsentence.

"Was that…" Arthur looked at the door.

Francis made a jump for the phone. "CALL ALFRED!"

"YOU CALL! YOU HAVE THE BOODY PHONE!"

The trip to the other American's was… long. He kept in contact with Oliver, but the further away he got from the portal, the worse the reception had gotten. He wondered how Matt called through here. Oliver suggested that the distance was too great for the talkies.

He finally found himself nearing the American's home and felt relieved that everyone around him had the same accent and the same language. He felt oddly at home here.

He slammed a fist on the door and waited for a response.

After a moment of thumping, the door swung open. "Yo," the blonde said. "That was really fast. I only called like f-" He finally focused on whom he was speaking to. "F…Five… Oh, hell no." He started backing away in fear, but Allen wedged his bat in-between the door and the frame.

"Calm down, Pork chop," Allen snapped.

Alfred frowned at him. "Hey, that was rude."

Allen rolled his red eyes. "I'm not here to cause trouble, okay?"

The other American stared at him for a long moment. He made a face and sighed. "Sure dude," he opened the door. "Wanna, like, chill or something? I mean, Mattie does that with your guy so…"

Allen felt completely awkward. "Well, I was…" He thought for a second. "You know what, I was gonna ask if you wanted to get your fat ass over to my place for some drinks."

Ignoring the insult, Alfred jumped right at the offer. "Drinks? No way, dude. Really? That's kind of awesome! When?"

It was kind of endearing, and Allen shrugged. "Whenever, man. I don't care."

Alfred grinned. "Well, heck! Tonight it is then!"

Allen chuckled. This guy was so weird. "Sure, sure. Oh, hey. You know where Your Canadian is? I have to tell him something."

Alfred nodded. "He's upstairs, dude." Alfred opened the door and let Allen through. The place smelled like Cheetos and dude. Allen crinkled his nose and made his way up the stairs to hunt down the Canadian.

There was a guest room that Matthew was staying in at the end of the upstairs hallway. The door was opened and Matthew was putting his clothes away, expecting to stay for a while.

Allen kicked the half opened door in and snapped, "You're coming with me, kid."

Matthew gasped and spun around. He noticed Allen's bat and frowned.

"I don't want to go anywhere with you," he said, voice timid and strained.

"You don't have a choice, jailbait." Allen smiled wickedly and held his bat up.

He immediately dropped his bat and stepped back.

Matthew held a gun up from seemingly nowhere. He snapped, "Don't move."

Oliver sighed softly and pet his hair gently. The small creature was fast asleep on his chest, breathing softly. He smiled softly at the small child and thought about how he got to do this again. It'd been years since the last time he had had someone so small agree to sleep with him. He smiled.

From the other room, little feet padded into the living room and stopped.

"Allen," Oliver cooed.

"Is he kay," the child asked. He tilted his little head at the tiny nation.

"He's just sleeping, love."

Allen hovered in the doorway, contemplating his next move. Oliver could tell that the boy wanted to come in and join, but at his young age he had a hell of an ego. Instead of trying to coax him, he let Allen make his own choice.

The tiny Canadian stirred and wriggled awake. His violet eyes fluttered open and searched the room. He made direct eye contact with Allen's crimson eyes and stayed there, thoughtful. Matt brought his hand up to his mouth and stared back at his older brother shyly.

Allen shrank and ducked a little, not sure how to react. The idea of having a little brother had seemed fun at first, but so far all it had been was Oliver staying up at ungodly hours of the night, then ignoring him and Francois during the day to care for the Canadian. Francois and Oliver weren't getting along too well, either, which made life even more difficult. Perhaps Oliver was too tired to be chipper anymore and Francois wasn't exactly pleased with having another baby around.

Allen inched closer, still staring back at Matt. "Can... Can I...?"

Oliver carefully sat up with Matt and rested the small nation on his knee. He waved for Allen to come closer, and the boy did.

He walked up to Matt and swallowed. "H-hello," he said to the baby.

Matt removed his hand from his mouth and reached out to touch Allen's face. The boy jumped a bit, but let his little brother play with his hair.

"He's cute, I guess."

Oliver couldn't help but laugh. "You were this small once too, Al."

"I know that," he said.

Matt was in a plaid one-zee that, in all honesty, was fucking adorable. Flavio probably made it.

"Wanna hold him," Oliver asked.

"No," Allen said quickly.

The Englishman nodded slowly. "Alright, alright."

"I mean, I want to... But I'm scared to."

Oliver smiled softly. His eyes were darker than usual these days. "Sit up here next to me."

Allen nodded and gently pulled away from the reaching hands of the baby. He crawled onto the couch next to his caretaker and sat back. His short legs didn't come close to touching the floor... his physical age was about 8 years old while Matt's was 1.

Olivier carefully lifted Matt from his knee and gently placed the baby on Allen's lap, despite his silent protesting.

"I don't wanna hurt him-"

"You won't, poppet," Oliver assured him and rested Matt down.

The little nation looked up at Allen and blinked, and then he snuggled into his arms and started falling asleep.

Allen frowned. "Hey, I'm not that boring!"

A dark laugh came from across the room, startling everyone except for the baby.

Francois was leaning against the doorframe, watching them.

Oliver looked down and patted Allen's shoulder. "Do you mind if I walk out for a few minutes?"

Allen looked at Matt. "It's not like he's going anywhere." Oliver nodded and got up, carefully passing Francois on his way out. The Frenchman watched him go by, then looked back at Allen who had his dark eyes fixed on him.

"You two should really try to get along."

Francois frowned deeply. "You should learn to mind your own business." The tone in his voice made Allen shrink down and cling to his little brother tightly, yet carefully.

The man left the room. A few minutes later, Allen heard a door slam, making Matt groan, his sleep disturbed again. "It's okay, Mattie," Allen said in a soft tone, trying to hold back his own fear and depression.

Allen came back to consciousness. The feeling of uncertainty flooded through him. Francois had been a bastard, and Oliver followed that pattern soon after. Then there was Matt, his younger brother, whom he had honestly loved to death at one point. He forgot where they started arguing and getting at each other's throats.

He blinked the darkness away and noticed two figures hovering over him. His last memory was pulling out his bat to threaten the other Canadian... then in a flash he was on the ground.

"Are you alright, eh?"

He felt a throbbing pain start on his temple.

"Fuck..." He groaned and brought a hand to his head.

"Don't touch that, dude." It was Alfred who said that.

"What...happened?"

"Well, ya pulled your bat out on Mattie... So he pulled a gun on you. You totally freaked and stumbled over your own feet. You cracked your head on the dresser."

Allen finally came to focus and looked at the smaller Canadian. "A gun?"

He nodded once, looking a bit stern. "I'm not afraid to use it either, so don't do that again."

Allen swallowed. "I...Look," He sat up carefully. "I'm sorry. I just didn't think you'd come with me."

"You didn't think to ask first?"

A static voice said, "Oh, Al doesn't do too much thinking, poppets."

They all turned to look at the radio Allen dropped.

"Hello," Oliver said cheerfully. "Dear, Matthew. I do apologize for Allen's ignorance. Would you mind showing up here with him? You can bring your American too. I have cookies," he bribed.

Alfred was obviously interested, but he let his brother decide.

"They aren't poisoned?"

"I'll have Francois eat one of your choice to prove it," he said.

"I'll do no such thing," Francois snapped in the background.

"Shush," he snapped. "Do we have a deal, love? All knives are on the table, I promise."

Matthew looked at Alfred. "Will you come with me?"

"Dude, this guy has cookies. Of course I'm coming."

Matthew poked his gun at Allen. "Alright, hoser. Up we go!"

"Swe... Wait, is that a swear? I can't tell."

Allen could practically hear Francois face-palming.

Matthew tentatively nibbled on one of the cookies that Oliver offered. He'd finally put the gun in its holder around his waist. They were all settled in the living area. Francois had unwillingly ate a cookie to prove that they weren't poisoned and went back to the kitchen alone. Allen sat uncomfortably on the couch next to Oliver and Alfred. Matthew was alone on the couch looking rather unnerved.

Oliver was holding a teacup and looked a bit impatient. He decided to break the uneasy silence and offered Alfred a cookie, and the boy gladly took it.

"Thanks, man," Alfred said enthusiastically. Oliver smiled at him and looked at Allen.

"No thanks," he muttered, waving a hand at the cookies.

"Right," Oliver nodded. He turned to Matthew. "I am quite sorry for his behavior. It's act first, think later for him."

Matthew's shoulders relaxed slightly. "Honestly, I get it." He glanced at Alfred. "I know a few people like that."

"Oliver," Allen snapped. "You have absolutely NO room to talk. You-"

He cut himself off when he heard the garage door shut loudly. Instead of chewing Oliver out, he turned to Alfred and said, "That's our cue. C'mon."

Alfred tilted his head, confused, but he complied. Oliver handed him a few more cookies before he left and he smiled like a little boy on Halloween.

Allen dragged his counterpart out the front door, leaving Matthew and Oliver alone.

Matthew shifted slightly, still confused about what was happening.

Oliver turned to him. "I have a confession to make. I'm setting you up."

Matthew's eyes widened and he reached for his belt.

The Brit held his hands up, almost spilling his tea. "No, no, not like that, love. I mean I'm setting you up here. With Matt."

The Canadian froze and started turning red. "W…wha…"

"It's a little obvious," he admitted. "You two are so shy that your relationship was barely passing friendship levels, but Mattie calls you a lot. Trust me, I should know," he groaned, referring to his phone bill. "But if you tell me that you don't like him right now, I'll sneak you out right now."

Matthew let the information sink in. He hesitated, then stood up. Oliver's face started falling, realizing he had been wrong, but Matthew said, "Can I talk to him… alone?"

Oliver bounced up, nodded and turned to leave.

"Hey, Oliver?" Matt walked in, looking behind himself. "What's with the…" He finally turned and saw Matthew standing there. "Oh." He looked at Oliver, who was trying to escape.

Oliver smiled sheepishly. "Um, what's with…what…?"

Matt blinked. "The dinner… but I think I g-get it…" He was turning red, and Matthew was as well.

Oliver frowned. "Dinner?"

Matt sighed. "Don't play dumb, Ollie."

The Brit walked past Matt and into the dining room where a four-course meal was splayed over the table, fresh and ready for two. He blinked. "Poppet, I didn't do this."

Matt looked back at Oliver briefly. "Then who the hell did?"

Ignoring the language, Oliver just shrugged. Honestly, I didn't think I'd get very far as to get you two to sit down for dinner together.

"Well," Matthew said, walking in quietly. "It's here, and we wouldn't want it going to waste." He looked up at Matt and smiled.

Oliver looked back at them and blushed. "I'll see myself out," he said and slipped out, going outside where Allen and Alfred were sitting.

"Hey, Matchmaker," Allen teased.

Oliver sighed and sat down on the bench next to the boys.

Alfred tilted his head. "I didn't know Mattie had a crush."

"Me either," Allen said and slouched back. He looked at Oliver. "How often do you do this? You did it on Christmas, you did it today…"

Oliver smiled. "I don't do it as much as Flavio, love."

"What about you?"

"What about me…?"

Allen raised a brow. "Hey, Burger Boy. Let's go get some drinks. I know of a good place." He stood up, leaving Oliver confused. They left on Allen's bike and Alfred seemed as enthused as always.

"What about…me…" Oliver repeated. He looked down, smiling to himself.

Francois cleaned the dishes as silently as possible. The boys were chatting amongst each other in the dining room and he didn't want to give any indication that he was in the house.

"It's about time," he grunted and shook his head. The kitchen had no traces of cooking left in it. He brushed his shirt off of spices and flour. He opened the basement door and escaped outside that way.


End file.
